BOOK XI.

THE VARIOUS KINDS OF INSECTS.

CHAP. 1. (1.)—THE EXTREME SMALLNESS OF INSECTS.

We shall now proceed to a description of the insects, a subject replete

with endless difficulties;[3] for, in fact, there are some authors who

have maintained that they do not respire, and that they are destitute

of blood. The insects are numerous, and form many species, and their

mode of life is like that of the terrestrial animals and the birds.

Some of them are furnished with wings, bees for instance; others

are divided into those kinds which have wings, and those which are

without them, such as ants; while others, again, are destitute of

both wings and feet. All these animals have been very properly called

“insects,”[4] from the incisures or divisions which separate the body,

sometimes at the neck, and sometimes at the corselet, and so divide

it into members or segments, only united to each other by a slender

tube. In some insects, however, this division is not complete, as it

is surrounded by wrinkled folds; and thus the flexible vertebræ of the

creature, whether situate at the abdomen, or whether only at the upper

part of the body, are protected by layers, overlapping each other;

indeed, in no one of her works has Nature more fully displayed her

exhaustless ingenuity.

(2.) In large animals, on the other hand, or, at all events, in the

very largest among them, she found her task easy and her materials

ready and pliable; but in these minute creatures, so nearly akin as

they are to non-entity, how surpassing the intelligence, how vast the

resources, and how ineffable the perfection which she has displayed.

Where is it that she has united so many senses as in the gnat?—not to

speak of creatures that might be mentioned of still smaller size—Where,

I say, has she found room to place in it the organs of sight? Where

has she centred the sense of taste? Where has she inserted the power

of smell? And where, too, has she implanted that sharp shrill voice of

the creature, so utterly disproportioned to the smallness of its body?

With what astonishing subtlety has she united the wings to the trunk,

elongated the joints of the legs, framed that long, craving concavity

for a belly, and then inflamed the animal with an insatiate thirst for

blood, that of man more especially! What ingenuity has she displayed in

providing it with a sting,[5] so well adapted for piercing the skin!

And then too, just as though she had had the most extensive field for

the exercise of her skill, although the weapon is so minute that it can

hardly be seen, she has formed it with a twofold mechanism, providing

it with a point for the purpose of piercing, and at the same moment

making it hollow, to adapt it for suction.

What teeth, too, has she inserted in the teredo,[6] to adapt it for

piercing oak even with a sound which fully attests their destructive

power! while at the same time she has made wood its principal

nutriment. We give all our admiration to the shoulders of the elephant

as it supports the turret, to the stalwart neck of the bull, and the

might with which it hurls aloft whatever comes in its way, to the

onslaught of the tiger, or to the mane of the lion; while, at the

same time, Nature is nowhere to be seen to greater perfection than in

the very smallest of her works. For this reason then, I must beg of

my readers, notwithstanding the contempt they feel for many of these

objects, not to feel a similar disdain for the information I am about

to give relative thereto, seeing that, in the study of Nature, there

are none of her works that are unworthy of our consideration.

CHAP. 2. (3.)—WHETHER INSECTS RESPIRE, AND WHETHER THEY HAVE BLOOD.

Many authors deny that insects respire,[7] and make the assertion upon

the ground, that in their viscera there is no respiratory organ to be

found. On this ground, they assert that insects have the same kind of

life as plants and trees, there being a very great difference between

respiring and merely having life. On similar grounds also, they assert

that insects have no blood, a thing which cannot exist, they say, in

any animal that is destitute of heart and liver; just as, according to

them, those creatures cannot breathe which have no lungs. Upon these

points, however, a vast number of questions will naturally arise; for

the same writers do not hesitate to deny that these creatures are

destitute also of voice,[8] and this, notwithstanding the humming of

bees, the chirping of grasshoppers, and the sounds emitted by numerous

other insects which will be considered in their respective places.

For my part, whenever I have considered the subject, I have ever felt

persuaded that there is nothing impossible to Nature, nor do I see

why creatures should be less able to live and yet not inhale, than to

respire without being possessed of viscera, a doctrine which I have

already maintained, when speaking[9] of the marine animals; and that,

notwithstanding the density and the vast depth of the water which would

appear to impede all breathing. But what person could very easily

believe that there can be any creatures that fly to and fro, and live

in the very midst of the element of respiration, while, at the same

time, they themselves are devoid of that respiration; that they can

be possessed of the requisite instincts for nourishment, generation,

working, and making provision even for time to come, in the enjoyment

too (although, certainly, they are not possessed of the organs which

act, as it were, as the receptacles of those senses) of the powers of

hearing, smelling, and tasting, as well as those other precious gifts

of Nature, address, courage, and skilfulness? That these creatures have

no blood[10] I am ready to admit, just as all the terrestrial animals

are not possessed of it; but then, they have something similar, by way

of equivalent. Just as in the sea, the sæpia[11] has a black liquid in

place of blood, and the various kinds of purples, those juices which

we use for the purposes of dyeing; so, too, is every insect possessed

of its own vital humour, which, whatever it is, is blood to it. While

I leave it to others to form what opinion they please on this subject,

it is my purpose to set forth the operations of Nature in the clearest

possible light, and not to enter upon the discussion of points that are

replete with doubt.

CHAP. 3. (4.)—THE BODIES OF INSECTS.

Insects, so far as I find myself able to ascertain, seem to have

neither sinews,[12] bones, spines, cartilages, fat, nor flesh; nor yet

so much as a frail shell, like some of the marine animals, nor even

anything that can with any propriety be termed skin; but they have a

body which is of a kind of intermediate nature between all these, of an

arid substance, softer than muscle, and in other respects of a nature

that may, in strictness, be rather pronounced yielding,[13] than hard.

Such, then, is all that they are, and nothing more:[14] in the inside

of their bodies there is nothing, except in some few, which have an

intestine arranged in folds. Hence it is, that even when cut asunder,

they are remarkable for their tenacity of life, and the palpitations

which are to be seen in each of their parts. For every portion of them

is possessed of its own vital principle, which is centred in no limb

in particular, but in every part of the body; least of all, however,

in the head, which alone is subject to no movements unless torn off

together with the corselet. No kind of animal has more feet than the

insects have, and those among them which have the most, live the

longest when cut asunder, as we see in the case of the scolopendra.

They have eyes, and the senses as well of touch and taste; some of them

have also the sense of smelling, and some few that of hearing.

CHAP. 4. (5.)—BEES.

But among them all, the first rank, and our especial admiration, ought,

in justice, to be accorded to bees, which alone, of all the insects,

have been created for the benefit of man. They extract honey and

collect it, a juicy substance remarkable for its extreme sweetness,

lightness, and wholesomeness. They form their combs and collect wax,

an article that is useful for a thousand purposes of life; they are

patient of fatigue, toil at their labours, form themselves into

political communities, hold councils together in private, elect chiefs

in common, and, a thing that is the most remarkable of all, have their

own code of morals. In addition to this, being as they are, neither

tame nor wild, so all-powerful is Nature, that, from a creature so

minute as to be nothing more hardly than the shadow of an animal, she

has created a marvel beyond all comparison. What muscular power, what

exertion of strength are we to put in comparison with such vast energy

and such industry as theirs? What display of human genius, in a word,

shall we compare with the reasoning powers manifested by them? In this

they have, at all events, the advantage of us—they know of nothing but

what is for the common benefit of all. Away, then, with all questions

whether they respire or no, and let us be ready to agree on the

question of their blood; and yet, how little of it can possibly exist

in bodies so minute as theirs.—And now let us form some idea of the

instinct they display.

CHAP. 5. (6.)—THE ORDER DISPLAYED IN THE WORKS OF BEES.

Bees keep within the hive during the winter—for whence are they to

derive the strength requisite to withstand frosts and snows, and the

northern blasts? The same, in fact, is done by all insects, but not

to so late a period; as those which conceal themselves in the walls

of our houses, are much sooner sensible of the returning warmth. With

reference to bees, either seasons and climates have considerably

changed, or else former writers have been greatly mistaken. They retire

for the winter at the setting of the Vergiliæ, and remain shut up till

after the rising of that constellation, and not till only the beginning

of spring, as some authors have stated; nor, indeed, does any one in

Italy ever think of then opening the hives. They do not come forth to

ply their labours until the bean blossoms; and then not a day do they

lose in inactivity, while the weather is favourable for their pursuits.

First of all, they set about constructing their combs, and forming the

wax, or, in other words, making their dwellings and cells; after this

they produce their young, and then make honey and wax from flowers,

and extract bee-glue[15] from the tears of those trees which distil

glutinous substances, the juices, gums, and resins, namely, of the

willow, the elm, and the reed. With these substances, as well as others

of a more bitter nature, they first line the whole inside of the hive,

as a sort of protection against the greedy propensities of other small

insects, as they are well aware that they are about to form that which

will prove an object of attraction to them. Having done this, they

employ similar substances in narrowing the entrance to the hive, if

otherwise too wide.

CHAP. 6. (5.)—THE MEANING OF THE TERMS COMMOSIS, PISSOCEROS, AND

PROPOLIS.

The persons who understand this subject, call the substance which

forms the first foundation of their combs, _commosis_,[16] the next,

_pissoceros_,[17] and the third _propolis_;[18] which last is placed

between the other layers and the wax, and is remarkable for its utility

in medicine.[19] The commosis forms the first crust or layer, and has a

bitter taste; and upon it is laid the pissoceros, a kind of thin wax,

which acts as a sort of varnish. The propolis is produced from the

sweet gum of the vine or the poplar, and is of a denser consistency,

the juices of flowers being added to it. Still, however, it cannot be

properly termed wax, but rather the foundation of the honey-combs; by

means of it all inlets are stopped up, which might, otherwise, serve

for the admission of cold or other injurious influences; it has also a

strong odour, so much so, indeed, that many people use it instead of

galbanum.

CHAP. 7.—THE MEANING OF ERITHACE, SANDARACA, OR CERINTHOS.

In addition to this, the bees form collections of _erithace_ or

bee-bread, which some persons call “sandaraca,”[20] and others

“cerinthos.” This is to serve as the food of the bees while they are

at work, and is often found stowed away in the cavities of the cells,

being of a bitter flavour also. It is produced from the spring dews and

the gummy juices of trees, being less abundant while the south-west

wind is blowing, and blackened by the prevalence of a south wind. On

the other hand, again, it is of a reddish colour and becomes improved

by the north-east wind; it is found in the greatest abundance upon the

nut trees in Greece. Menecrates says, that it is a flower, which gives

indications of the nature of the coming harvest; but no one says so,

with the exception of him.

CHAP. 8. (8.)—WHAT FLOWERS ARE USED BY THE BEES IN THEIR WORK.

Bees form wax[21] from the blossoms of all trees and plants, with

the sole exception of the rumex[22] and the echinopodes,[23] both

being kinds of herbs. It is by mistake, however, that spartum is

excepted;[24] for many varieties of honey that come from Spain, and

have been made in the plantations of it, have a strong taste of that

plant. I am of opinion, also, that it is without any sufficient reason

that the olive has been excepted, seeing that it is a well-known fact,

that where olives are in the greatest abundance, the swarms of bees are

the most numerous. Bees are not injurious to fruit of any kind; they

will never settle on a dead flower, much less a dead carcase. They

pursue their labours within three-score paces of their hives; and when

the flowers in their vicinity are exhausted, they send out scouts from

time to time, to discover places for forage at a greater distance. When

overtaken by night in their expeditions, they watch till the morning,

lying on their backs, in order to protect their wings from the action

of the dew.

CHAP. 9. (9.)—PERSONS WHO HAVE MADE BEES THEIR STUDY.

It is not surprising that there have been persons who have made bees

their exclusive study; Aristomachus of Soli, for instance, who for a

period of fifty-eight years did nothing else; Philiscus of Thasos,

also, surnamed Agrius,[25] who passed his life in desert spots, tending

swarms of bees. Both of these have written works on this subject.

CHAP. 10. (10.)—THE MODE IN WHICH BEES WORK.

The manner in which bees carry on their work is as follows. In the

day time a guard is stationed at the entrance of the hive, like the

sentries in a camp. At night they take their rest until the morning,

when one of them awakes the rest with a humming noise, repeated twice

or thrice, just as though it were sounding a trumpet. They then take

their flight in a body, if the day is likely to turn out fine; for they

have the gift of foreknowing wind and rain, and in such case will keep

close within their dwellings. On the other hand, when the weather is

fine—and this, too, they have the power of foreknowing—the swarm issues

forth, and at once applies itself to its work, some loading their

legs from the flowers, while others fill their mouths with water, and

charge the downy surface of their bodies with drops of liquid. Those

among them that are young[26] go forth to their labours, and collect

the materials already mentioned, while those that are more aged stay

within the hives and work. The bees whose business it is to carry the

flowers, with their fore feet load their thighs, which Nature has made

rough for the purpose, and with their trunks load their fore feet:

bending beneath their load, they then return to the hive, where there

are three or four bees ready to receive them, and aid in discharging

their burdens. For, within the hive as well, they have their allotted

duties to perform: some are engaged in building, others in smoothing,

the combs, while others again are occupied in passing on the materials,

and others in preparing food[27] from the provision which has been

brought; that there may be no unequal division, either in their labour,

their food, or the distribution of their time, they do not even feed

separately.

Commencing at the vaulted roof of the hive, they begin the construction

of their cells, and, just as we do in the manufacture of a web, they

construct their cells from top to bottom, taking care to leave two

passages around each compartment, for the entrance of some and the exit

of others. The combs, which are fastened to the hive in the upper part,

and in a slight degree also at the sides, adhere to each other, and are

thus suspended altogether. They do not touch the floor of the hive,

and are either angular or round, according to its shape; sometimes,

in fact, they are both angular and round at once, when two swarms are

living in unison, but have dissimilar modes of operation. They prop

up the combs that are likely to fall, by means of arched pillars, at

intervals springing from the floor, so as to leave them a passage for

the purpose of effecting repairs. The first three ranks of their cells

are generally left empty when constructed, that there may be nothing

exposed to view which may invite theft; and it is the last ones, more

especially, that are filled with honey: hence it is that the combs are

always taken out at the back of the hive.

The bees that are employed in carrying look out for a favourable

breeze, and if a gale should happen to spring up, they poise themselves

in the air with little stones, by way of ballast; some writers,

indeed, say that they place them upon their shoulders. When the wind

is contrary, they fly close to the ground, taking care, however, to

keep clear of the brambles. It is wonderful what strict watch is kept

upon their work: all instances of idleness are carefully remarked, the

offenders are chastised, and on a repetition of the fault, punished

with death. Their sense of cleanliness, too, is quite extraordinary;

everything is removed that might be in the way, and no filth is allowed

to remain in the midst of their work. The ordure even of those that are

at work within, that they may not have to retire to any distance, is

all collected in one spot, and on stormy days, when they are obliged

to cease their ordinary labours, they employ themselves in carrying it

out. When it grows towards evening, the buzzing in the hive becomes

gradually less and less, until at last one of their number is to be

seen flying about the hive with the same loud humming noise with which

they were aroused in the morning, thereby giving the signal, as it

were, to retire to rest: in this, too, they imitate the usage of the

camp. The moment the signal is heard, all is silent.

(11.) They first construct the dwellings of the commonalty, and then

those of the king-bee. If they have reason to expect an abundant[28]

season, they add abodes also for the drones: these are cells of a

smaller size, though the drones themselves are larger than the bees.

CHAP. 11.—DRONES.

The drones have no sting,[29] and would seem to be a kind of imperfect

bee, formed the very last of all; the expiring effort, as it were, of

worn-out and exhausted old age, a late and tardy offspring, and doomed,

in a measure, to be the slaves of the genuine bees. Hence it is that

the bees exercise over them a rigorous authority, compel them to take

the foremost rank in their labours, and if they show any sluggishness,

punish them[30] without mercy. And not only in their labours do the

drones give them their assistance, but in the propagation of their

species as well, the very multitude of them contributing greatly to the

warmth of the hive. At all events, it is a well-known fact, that the

greater[31] the multitude of the drones, the more numerous is sure

to be the progeny of the swarm. When the honey is beginning to come

to maturity, the bees drive away the drones, and setting upon each in

great numbers, put them all to death. It is only in the spring that the

drones are ever to be seen. If you deprive a drone of its wings, and

then replace it in the hive, it will pull off the wings of the other

drones.

CHAP. 12.—THE QUALITIES OF HONEY.

In the lower part of the hive they construct for their future sovereign

a palatial abode,[32] spacious and grand, separated from the rest,

and surmounted by a sort of dome: if this prominence should happen

to be flattened, all hopes of progeny are lost. All the cells are

hexagonal, each foot[33] having formed its own side. No part of this

work, however, is done at any stated time, as the bees seize every

opportunity for the performance of their task when the days are fine;

in one or two days, at most, they fill their cells with honey.

(12.) This substance is engendered from the air,[34] mostly at the

rising of the constellations, and more especially when Sirius is

shining; never, however, before the rising of the Vergiliæ, and then

just before day-break. Hence it is, that at early dawn the leaves of

the trees are found covered with a kind of honey-like dew, and those

who go into the open air at an early hour in the morning, find their

clothes covered, and their hair matted, with a sort of unctuous liquid.

Whether it is that this liquid is the sweat of the heavens, or whether

a saliva emanating from the stars, or a juice exuding from the air

while purifying itself, would that it had been, when it comes to us,

pure, limpid, and genuine, as it was, when first it took its downward

descent. But as it is, falling from so vast a height, attracting

corruption in its passage, and tainted by the exhalations of the earth

as it meets them, sucked, too, as it is from off the trees and the

herbage of the fields, and accumulated in the stomachs of the bees—for

they cast it up again through the mouth—deteriorated besides by the

juices of flowers, and then steeped within the hives and subjected to

such repeated changes—still, in spite of all this, it affords us by

its flavour a most exquisite pleasure, the result, no doubt, of its

æthereal nature and origin.

CHAP. 13. (13.)—WHERE THE BEST HONEY IS PRODUCED.

The honey is always best in those countries where it is to be found

deposited in the calix of the most exquisite flowers, such, for

instance, as the districts of Hymettus and Hybla, in Attica and Sicily

respectively, and after them the island of Calydna.[35] At first,

honey is thin, like water, after which it effervesces for some days,

and purifies itself like must. On the twentieth day it begins to

thicken, and soon after becomes covered with a thin membrane, which

gradually increases through the scum which is thrown up by the heat.

The honey of the very finest flavour, and the least tainted by the

leaves of trees, is that gathered from the foliage of the oak and the

linden, and from reeds.

CHAP. 14. (14.)—THE KINDS OF HONEY PECULIAR TO VARIOUS PLACES.

The peculiar excellence of honey depends, as already stated,[36] on

the country in which it is produced; the modes, too, of estimating

its quality are numerous. In some countries we find the honey-comb

remarkable for the goodness of the wax, as in Sicily, for instance, and

the country of the Peligni; in other places the honey itself is found

in greater abundance, as in Crete, Cyprus, and Africa; and in others,

again, the comb is remarkable for its size; the northern climates, for

instance, for in Germany a comb has been known to be as much as eight

feet in length, and quite black on the concave surface.

But whatever the country in which it may happen to have been produced,

there are three different kinds of honey.—Spring honey[37] is that

made in a comb which has been constructed of flowers, from which

circumstance it has received the name of _anthinum_. There are some

persons who say that this should not be touched, because the more

abundant the nutriment, the stronger will be the coming swarm; while

others, again, leave less of this honey than of any other for the bees,

on the ground that there is sure to be a vast abundance at the rising

of the greater constellations, as well as at the summer solstice, when

the thyme and the vine begin to blossom, for then they are sure to find

abundant materials for their cells.

In taking the combs the greatest care is always requisite, for when

they are stinted for food the bees become desperate, and either pine

to death, or else wing their flight to other places: but on the other

hand, over-abundance will entail idleness, and then they will feed

upon the honey, and not the bee-bread. Hence it is that the most

careful breeders take care to leave the bees a fifteenth part of this

gathering. There is a certain day for beginning the honey-gathering,

fixed, as it were, by a law of Nature, if men would only understand or

observe it, being the thirtieth day after the bees have swarmed and

come forth. This gathering mostly takes place before the end of May.

The second kind of honey is “summer honey,” which, from the

circumstance of its being produced at the most favourable season, has

received the Greek name of _horaion_;[38] it is generally made during

the next thirty days after the solstice, while Sirius is shining in all

its brilliancy. Nature has revealed in this substance most remarkable

properties to mortals, were it not that the fraudulent propensities of

man are apt to falsify and corrupt everything. For, after the rising of

each constellation, and those of the highest rank more particularly, or

after the appearance of the rainbow, if a shower does not ensue, but

the dew becomes warmed by the sun’s rays, a medicament, and not real

honey, is produced; a gift sent from heaven for the cure of diseases

of the eyes, ulcers, and maladies of the internal viscera. If this is

taken at the rising of Sirius, and the rising of Venus, Jupiter, or

Mercury should happen to fall on the same day, as often is the case,

the sweetness of this substance, and the virtue which it possesses of

restoring men to life, are not inferior to those attributed to the

nectar of the gods.

CHAP. 15. (15.)—HOW HONEY IS TESTED. ERICÆUM. TETRALIX, OR SISIRUM.

The crop of honey is most abundant if gathered at full moon, and

it is richest when the weather is fine. In all honey, that which

flows of itself, like must or oil, has received from us the name of

_acetum_.[39] The summer honey is the most esteemed of all, from the

fact of its being made when the weather is driest: it is looked upon as

the most serviceable when made from thyme;[40] it is then of a golden

colour, and of a most delicious flavour. The honey that we see formed

in the calix of flowers is of a rich and unctuous nature; that which

is made from rosemary is thick, while that which is candied is little

esteemed. Thyme honey does not coagulate, and on being touched will

draw out into thin viscous threads, a thing which is the principal

proof of its heaviness. When honey shows no tenacity, and the drops

immediately part from one another, it is looked upon as a sign of its

worthlessness. The other proofs of its goodness are the fine aroma

of its smell, its being of a sweetness that closely borders on the

sour,[41] and being glutinous and pellucid.

Cassius Dionysius is of opinion that in the summer gathering the

tenth part of the honey ought to be left for the bees if the hives

should happen to be well filled, and even if not, still in the same

proportion; while, on the other hand, if there is but little in them,

he recommends that it should not be touched at all. The people of

Attica have fixed the period for commencing this gathering at the first

ripening of the wild fig; others[42] have made it the day that is

sacred to Vulcan.[43]

(16.) The third kind of honey, which is the least esteemed of all, is

the wild honey, known by the name of _ericæum_.[44] It is collected by

the bees after the first showers of autumn, when the heather[45] alone

is blooming in the woods, from which circumstance it derives its sandy

appearance. It is mostly produced at the rising of Arcturus, beginning

at the day[46] before the ides of September. Some persons delay the

gathering of the summer honey until the rising of Arcturus, because

from then till the autumnal equinox there are fourteen days left, and

it is from the equinox till the setting of the Vergiliæ, a period

of forty-eight days, that the heather is in the greatest abundance.

The Athenians call this plant by the name of _tetralix_,[47] and the

Eubœans _sisirum_, and they look upon it as affording great pleasure to

the bees to browse upon, probably because there are no other flowers

for them to resort to. This gathering terminates at the end of the

vintage and the setting of the Vergiliæ, mostly about the ides of

November.[48] Experience teaches us that we ought to leave for the bees

two-thirds of this crop, and always that part of the combs as well,

which contains the bee-bread.

From the winter solstice to the rising of Arcturus the bees are buried

in sleep for sixty days, and live without any nourishment. Between the

rising of Arcturus and the vernal equinox, they awake in the warmer

climates, but even then they still keep within the hives, and have

recourse to the provisions kept in reserve for this period. In Italy,

however, they do this immediately after the rising of the Vergiliæ,

up to which period they are asleep. Some persons, when they take the

honey, weigh the hive and all, and remove just as much as they leave:

a due sense of equity should always be stringently observed in dealing

with them, and it is generally stated that if imposed upon in this

division, the swarm will die of grief. It is particularly recommended

also that the person who takes the honey should be well washed

and clean: bees have a particular aversion, too, to a thief and a

menstruous woman. When the honey is taken, it is the best plan to drive

away the bees by means of smoke, lest they should become irritated, or

else devour the honey themselves. By often applying smoke, too, they

are aroused from their idleness to work; but if they have not duly

incubated in the comb, it is apt to become of a livid colour. On the

other hand, if they are smoked too often, they will become tainted;

the honey, too, a substance which turns sour at the very slightest

contact with dew, will very quickly receive injury from the taint thus

contracted: hence it is that among the various kinds of honey which are

preserved, there is one which is known by the name of _acapnon_.[49]

CHAP. 16.—THE REPRODUCTION OF BEES.

How bees generate their young has been a subject of great and subtle

research among the learned; seeing that no one has ever witnessed[50]

any sexual intercourse among these insects. Many persons have

expressed an opinion that they must be produced from flowers, aptly

and artistically arranged by Nature; while others, again, suppose that

they are produced from an intercourse with the one which is to be found

in every swarm, and is usually called the king. This one, they say, is

the only male[51] in the hive, and is endowed with such extraordinary

proportions, that it may not become exhausted in the performance of

its duties. Hence it is, that no offspring can be produced without it,

all the other bees being females,[52] and attending it in its capacity

of a male, and not as their leader. This opinion, however, which is

otherwise not improbable, is sufficiently refuted by the generation of

the drones. For on what grounds could it possibly happen that the same

intercourse should produce an offspring part of which is perfect, and